


Au Jus

by canis_m



Series: Better Living Through Pheromones [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Caretaking, JustFuckMeUp, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Will, Rimming, Season/Series 01, Top Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7099174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canis_m/pseuds/canis_m
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the hunt for the Minnesota Shrike, Will goes into heat early.  Good thing there's a doctor on call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Au Jus

Will opened the door. He squinted into the light, past Dr. Lecter to the hotel parking lot. 

"Where's Jack?"

"Deposed in court. He asked me to look in on you." A night's worth of enclosed air eddied from Will's room, heavy with scent. Dr. Lecter's nostrils flared only slightly. "I begin to see why. How can I be of help?"

Last night, or even a few hours ago, Will might've told him to bug off, but by now the flush was on him. A sheen of sweat and pre-slick clung to his skin. He drew breath. He could smell Dr. Lecter: no cologne, no pheromone mask, just the sheer scent of unadorned alpha. Sheer like the stone face of a cliff Will was about to go plunging off. 

Maybe Jack had texted or left a voice mail. Maybe he hadn't; Will hadn't checked his phone before answering the door. Either way, it was like Jack to send in a pinch-hitter of his choosing without consulting Will on the choice. 

Will surveyed his fate--from the neat, sandy hair to the buffed leather shoes and everything between--without much relish. Dr. Lecter was attractive, objectively speaking. Still in his prime, with that extra helping of smarmy charisma peculiar to alphas. At their first meeting he'd gotten all up in Will's head to a disturbing degree. Will could've done without the same guy getting all up in his needy ass, but such was his luck.

"You're not obligated to 'help,'" Will said.

"Nonetheless, I'd like to."

When Will didn't move, Dr. Lecter peered at him more closely, then tilted his head to test Will's scent. It was courteous, unintrusive: a clinician's diagnostic sniff. 

"You're right on the verge," he said, "but I could prescribe a fast-acting suppressant. You'd need to take it almost immediately. I believe I saw a pharmacy up the street."

"I'm allergic to suppressants," said Will. But the offer had been kindly meant, he could tell. The offer of a concerned physician, not an opportunist reveling in the surprise prospect of getting laid. Excessively. At length.

"I see. Is there someone else you'd like to call?" 

"There's no one else," said Will.

Dr. Lecter's mouth softened. "In that case, may I come in?"

Will balked for a few seconds longer, but there was no use putting it off. He stepped aside without a word, retreating to the cavelike darkness of the room.

*

If nothing else, Dr. Lecter's manners were hard to reproach. He insisted on feeding Will--a sausage and egg scramble, miraculously homemade--and Will wasn't too far gone to eat, or to appreciate the food. They sat across from each other at the table, getting used to one another's scents. 

"You have an arrangement with Jack, I take it." 

Will shoveled down another mouthful of eggs. "It's the only reason they let me out on the streets."

"But you're not his mate."

"He's married. A beta." Will swallowed. "She's aware."

Dr. Lecter paused, fork in hand. "That can't be comfortable."

"Her health's been poor. She may be relieved Jack has...an outlet. If only once a month."

"Comfortable for you, I meant," the doctor said. "An alpha who tends to you and a beta who tolerates it, both out of exigency."

Will let his fork drop with a clack. "There's nothing comfortable about being the way I am."

Dr. Lecter looked concerned and contrite. "I apologize. I didn't mean to distress you. I confess, I'm surprised Jack would agree to attend a deposition at such a time." 

Will slumped backward in the chair. He dragged a hand over the stubble on his chin, then laid his palm on the table's edge. It was something solid to brace against, at least. 

"It's not his fault. I'm early. Stress, maybe." More fuel to the fire of argument not to let an unsupped omega into the field, let alone one as erratic as Will. Couldn't even keep his cycle regular.

Dr. Lecter studied him a moment more, then pushed back his chair and rose. He removed his jacket, draped it over the chair, and came to stand by Will. The sudden immediacy of his presence made Will's pulse leap. 

The doctor's hand touched the nape of Will's neck: a warm suggestion with no force to it.

"If I may?" 

"Oh, God." Will shut his eyes. "Yeah. Okay."

Dr. Lecter spread his palm wide and began to stroke, fingers catching the lowermost curls of Will's hair. Will's throat closed on a whimper. His head sagged forward of its own accord, a bud on a teetering stalk. Dr. Lecter's grip firmed to steady him.

"Easy. I have you. Eat a bit more, now, if you can."

Under the coaxing Will managed a few more bites. At last he gave up, pushing the plate away. It wasn't completely clean, but mostly, near enough to earn him a small smile and a murmured _well done._ Will could've cringed at how his whole body responded to the praise, to the continuous soft petting of his neck. Would've, if only he weren't past the point of cringing. 

Dr. Lecter leaned over him, easing more of himself into Will's space. In Will's present state it felt like sheltering, not like aggressive crowding. Like a closeness he craved more of, not less. 

As if Will's thoughts were legible, Dr. Lecter spoke. "I'd like to give you what you need, if you'll allow it. Do you prefer a good deal of gentling?"

The question raised an ache in Will's chest. "Jack never does that," he mumbled, half lost to the oncoming stupor of touch and heat.

"I'm not Jack," the doctor said.

*

And he wasn't. In bed he asked too many questions-- _Like this?_ and _All right?_ \--as if Will were in any shape to give cogent replies. He blanketed Will, his chest flush against Will's back, covering him completely, and breathed into Will's nape and sweaty curls, when Jack would only ever grab Will by the hips and fuck him upright, trying not to touch too much skin. Trying not to get too close. 

His cock wasn't as thick as Jack's, but he knew exactly what to do with it, with a doctor's knowledge of the body and the sureness of experience. His breath grew harsh, but he didn't grunt, didn't pat Will's ass and say _That's it. You take it. You take it, now._ Didn't make Will feel like the words _you randy little bitch_ ran unspoken under everything else. 

Will fisted his hands in the sheets. When he began to claw and pant, stuttering on a breathless _Doctor,_ Dr. Lecter nuzzled his ear and murmured, between rolls of his hips, that Will had better call him Hannibal.

*

Time passed in its usual fevered haze, if more than usually sweet. The curtains blocked the shifting slants of light that might have told the hour. Once Will's frantic edge wore off, their fucking turned leisurely, even gentle. They discovered Dr. Lecter had a talent for staying inside Will a very long time. He lay draped over Will, mouthing and nosing at his hair, buried in him but barely moving. Will lay plastered to the bed, jaw mashed against the sheets, letting faint insensible sounds well from his throat as they would. 

It entered his mind, dreamily, that after they came again they might sleep for a while, tangled together in this warm den, and that would feel right and good. His eyelids drooped.

A knock hammered the door.

Will froze. Above him Dr. Lecter stilled and then withdrew. He tied off the condom and sat up.

"Who is it?"

With no other warning the door opened. Bright light blared in, and with it the stark bulk of Jack Crawford's silhouette. 

Will twisted on the bed, blind with panic, but Dr. Lecter's weight over him held him pinned. 

"I see you got my message," said Jack. He slipped the duplicate key card into his pocket and closed the door. "I appreciate your filling in."

Dr. Lecter cleared the roughness from his throat. "My pleasure. I didn't expect you back so soon."

"We wrapped up early. I didn't want to leave Will hanging." The _snick_ of a belt buckle unlatched. "I'll take it from here. Unless you'd like to stay and tag team it. Looks like you've been enjoying yourselves."

Will's gut gave a sickening lurch. He felt Dr. Lecter shifting over him, leaning to speak directly to his ear. 

"Will, this is yours to decide. Would you like both Jack and I to take care of you? We can do that, if you like. Or I can go, or I can ask him to leave."

Some animal part of Will whined _both, both_ \--what could be better? Not one alpha but two, with all their potency, all their virile strength bent on Will, on fucking the heat out of him until his mind and body were his own again. Trading off whenever one of them flagged, so Will would never have to pine for want of a cock in him. But he wasn't ruled by lust alone, not even face down on the bed with a sopping ass. 

He turned away from the door and from Jack. His voice was a husk, barely this side of audible. 

"You stay. Just you."

"Not Jack?"

Will opened one eye, the one that wasn't pressed into the bedclothes, to catch Dr. Lecter's. "Just you. Please."

A flare of satisfaction in the dark gaze. Dr. Lecter straightened. He kept his hands on Will, a firm assurance on either side of him, but when he spoke his voice was calm.

"I'm afraid both of us together would be too much for him, Jack. And while I appreciate the offer, I wouldn't like to abandon him now."

There was a long pause. No noise but Will's haggard breathing.

"Will Graham is my responsibility." Jack's voice, too loud for the size of the room.

"He is, and you asked me to see to him in your absence." Dr. Lecter was steady, measured. "I don't do things halfway."

Another pause. "Fine." Another click: the belt re-buckled. "This round's all yours, Doctor. Have at it." 

At the sound of the door yanked shut, Will buried his face in the sheets. He wanted to curl in on himself, like a pillbug in its small, pathetic death throes. He wanted a life in which he'd never have to speak to Jack again.

"Well," said Dr. Lecter, "at least it didn't end in bloodshed. I'd hate to go head to head with that one. I wouldn't care for the odds." 

He seemed to perceive Will's misery, because his hand slid at once back to Will's neck, up over Will's hair and down again, smoothing. Over and over, until Will's body began to come unclenched. 

"Not the type to enjoy suitors battling for your favor, are you." Dr. Lecter sounded rueful, not unsympathetic. He lay down on his side next to Will, close against him, as if to shield him bodily, still rubbing his back. "Has all our good work been undone?"

Will shifted so he could peer at the doctor's face. He licked his lips. "What work."

"Putting you at ease. You were almost in danger of beginning to relax, I think, before the interruption."

The teasing in Dr. Lecter's voice made Will huff through his nose--but it was true. He turned onto his side so they were facing one another. 

"You wouldn't really have fought Jack. Not physically. Would you?"

"To defend you from rape? Of course I would, if it had come to that."

Will stared. "It wouldn't be...I would've let him. If you'd wanted to leave. I told you, we have an arrangement."

"Had an arrangement," said Dr. Lecter. "And I didn't want to leave. I'm glad you chose as you did." His hand slid approvingly over Will's hip. "Let's put Agent Crawford aside for now. If you're ready for a breather, why not have a shower? I'd like to fetch a few things from my room. I'll be back in no time."

"Is that your gentlemanly way of telling me I reek?"

"You smell good enough to eat, frankly, but I thought you might enjoy feeling clean. At least for a short while."

"You're not wrong." Will hauled himself upright. Bleary-eyed, he gathered up the towels he'd spread over the bed in an effort not to drench it. 

"May I use your key?"

"'S on the dresser." Will rolled the towels into a damp bundle and slid gingerly to his feet. 

His ass didn't hurt, exactly--it was built, after all, to get regularly reamed--but his walk to the bathroom was more of a waddle. As he opened the bathroom door he caught sight of Dr. Lecter watching his progress from the bed, plainly delighted. 

Will balled up the filthiest of the towels and flung it at his face. The volley backfired when Dr. Lecter caught the thing and held it to his nose, inhaling like it smelled of nectar and ambrosia. 

Will pulled a face and slunk into the bathroom, dumping the towels just outside it on the floor.

*

He took his time in the shower. He ran the water hot at first, to scrub himself down, and later turned the tap to cool to bathe under the spray. For a long time he just stood there, arms hanging at his sides, letting the water pour over him, thinking of nothing. The reliable ability to think of nothing was heat's one saving grace. He'd wished a hundred times for a way to extract it from the rest.

Eventually he heard a knock, followed by Dr. Lecter's voice saying something muffled. When Will turned off the water and pushed the curtain aside, he found a stack of fresh towels by the sink.

He dried himself off and stood naked in front of the clouded mirror. His heat-flush was visible, even after the cool shower: a bloom of pink all down his chest and belly, around his pubic hair and cock. It would extend to his backside, too. He didn't bother turning to look. 

He hadn't thought to grab a pair of boxers, or anything else. Not that there was much point in putting clothes on. He wrapped one of the clean towels around his waist and tucked it in place.

The bathroom had a fan for ventilation; between that and the soap and the shampoo from its tiny bottle, Will was unprepared for the renewed wave of scent when he opened the door. The bedroom did reek: of himself and Dr. Lecter, semen and slick. To his hormone-addled nose it smelled fantastic. 

Despite the lingering smell, the pile of dirty laundry had disappeared. The bed looked pristine, as if housekeeping had come and gone. The table was laid: cold meats and cheeses, crackers and some kind of pâté, a sprawling bunch of grapes. A bottle of white wine chilled in the plastic hotel ice bucket. 

Will stared. "How did you...I wasn't in there that long."

Dr. Lecter sat at the table, wearing a navy blue bathrobe and nothing else. He looked only mildly smug, as though conjuring picnics and clean sheets out of thin air were a matter of course. 

"The linens I begged from a housekeeper. The rest was in my room. As I said, I end up preparing most meals myself. I thought you might be hungry." 

Will sat. A bottle of water had been set at his place. "Little old-fashioned, isn't it? The whole 'alpha provider' thing." He opened the bottle and downed half of it in one go. 

"I enjoy it," said Dr. Lecter. 

"I figured you did." 

Will reached for a grape and popped it into his mouth. At the intrusion of food his stomach roared like a sleeping beast awakened. He loaded his plate: more grapes, pâté and crackers, a wedge of soft cheese that looked like Brie. For a few minutes he stuffed his face in mute relief. 

"This is good."

"With more time and a proper kitchen I could do better, but I'm glad you feel able to eat." Dr. Lecter reached for the wine bottle to twist it open. He poured a glass for himself and one for Will. "Do you do much cooking at home?"

Will suspected most of what he did in the kitchen might not qualify as cooking by the doctor's standards. "I can pan-fry a mean trout."

"Only the mean ones. Not the nice ones."

Will's mouth twitched. "I throw the nice ones back."

"A service to the aquatic community. Do you hunt as well as fish?"

"I've hunted. I'd rather fish."

"You prefer to seduce rather than pursue."

Trust an alpha and a shrink to go in for bedroom psychology. "I _pursue_ serial murderers," said Will. "When I'm not doing that, I like to be on the water. It's shiny."

Dr. Lecter smiled as if to himself. "I've spent much of my life land-locked, but I understand the appeal. I'd like to sample your mean trout meunière. Perhaps you'd agree to make it for me when we're back at home. I'd be happy to cook for you in return."

"If you want, sure." The answer came without forethought. Bemusement at himself and what he'd just agreed to came on its heels, too dim and belated to be real regret.

Dr. Lecter observed him over the glass of wine. "You seem much calmer now. Are we past the thick of it already?"

Will shook his head. "Eye of the storm. It'll start up again any minute. But only the first day's really bad." For some omegas, heats lasted longer, four or five days of full-on desperation. Will winced from the thought. "Day two is so-so. After that I go back to being cranky but functional. Functional as I ever am."

"Aside from the early onset, you're running true to pattern, then."

"So far." His gaze fell to the food on his plate. "I haven't said thank you. I don't understand what you're doing here, going through all this, when you could've just passed me off to Jack. But thanks. It's..." he looked up, faltering. "It's nice."

"Too nice? Shall I be meaner? I don't want to get thrown back."

"Unless your secret identity is a trout, you're fine." Will spread another cracker with mystery pâté. Whatever kind it was, it tasted good. 

Glass in hand, Dr. Lecter leaned back in his chair. "When I woke up this morning, I expected to spend the day investigating the pipe-fitters of suburban Minnesota. Instead I've spent it in bed with a beautiful young man, helped him in his hour of need, and now I'm enjoying a lovely if haphazard meal with him." He sketched a toast to Will in the air. "So in answer to your question, what I'm doing is being extremely pleased with my lot. One might say gloating."

This rendition of events seemed so rose-tinted as to warrant some protest, but not much of it could be panned as outright falsehood. Other than _beautiful_ and _young._ And in fact Will was the younger of the two of them. As for the other, "heat goggles" were a joke on moonstruck alphas for a reason. 

"Gloating," Will echoed.

"Yes. And you?"

He had to pause and take stock. "Being surprised," he said at last. "Repeatedly."

"Surprise is good. The antidote to boredom."

"If you say so."

Dr. Lecter sipped his wine. "If there's more fun in store for us, you shouldn't hesitate to give me direction. I want to give you what you need. I can guess at some of it. Most of it, perhaps. Not all."

Will shrugged. "Heat is its own weird universe. What I want in this context isn't always what I want in general. There's overlap, but it's not the same."

"For instance?"

"For one thing, if I weren't in heat, I wouldn't put out on the first date." Will wasn't sure whether to add that outside of heat he could take sex or leave it, and nine times out of ten it was less trouble to leave. Maybe ten out of ten. Not that anybody bothered to proposition him ten times. He had too good a knack for dismissal. 

"Now who's old-fashioned?" teased Dr. Lecter.

"Yeah, right."

"For the time being why don't we focus on this context, and address others as we come across them."

"Okay. Well." Will munched on another grape. "You haven't done much biting."

"I didn't want to presume."

"Biting's fine. Within reason. Where it won't show."

"May I kiss you?"

It startled Will more than it should have. "If you want," he said.

Dr. Lecter set down his wine and rose from his seat. He knelt beside Will's chair, cupping Will's neck to draw him close. When their foreheads were almost near enough to touch, he moved his hand to Will's face, fitting it against his cheek. His fingers brushed the curls around Will's ear. His gaze held Will's with soft intent, warm and pleased and otherwise opaque. 

Their lips met. Will opened for him at once, the same way his body had. A beat of need throbbed in him as they pressed together, as Dr. Lecter slid his tongue into Will's mouth.

The kiss was wet, not chaste at all, but brief--a tasting only. When Dr. Lecter withdrew he smiled a little, hand lingering on Will's face, as if reluctant to relinquish touch.

He returned to his chair. He'd scarcely sat down again before Will was on him, out of his own chair and onto his lap. 

The chair's arms baffled his urge to straddle. Instead he angled himself sideways between Dr. Lecter's legs, butt to his thigh, clinging to his shoulders. Precarious, until Dr. Lecter took hold of Will's waist with one hand, his nape with the other. Their noses bumped, and then they were kissing again, a slick, soft conversation of mouth on mouth. Will made a low sound, half pleasure and half pleading, and Dr. Lecter murmured back and swallowed it down.

His hand groped from Will's waist to his hip. Under the towel, grasping, sliding up Will's thigh, over his ass and down between his cheeks to finger the hot trickle of slick. 

Will groaned and clutched at him. He broke the kiss. The towel fell loose as he squirmed, trying to press his ass onto Dr. Lecter's hand, to get those fingers in him. Dr. Lecter nuzzled at his chin, grazing his teeth on the stubble. 

"Insatiable boy. Do you need me inside you again now?" He kissed Will's mouth without finesse, breathing the words into him. Kneaded the meat of Will's ass with one hand. "Can you wait a bit longer?"

Will shivered his discontent. "A little. Why?"

For a heartbeat Dr. Lecter eyed the table, with such raw calculation that Will thought he might sweep the remains of lunch to one side, sending wine and plates crashing, and throw Will across it. Instead he shoved the chair back, lifted them both, and heaved Will to the end of the bed, bearing down to bend him over it with Will's feet on the floor and legs spread. 

The force and speed of it startled Will, but he let himself be handled and positioned, arms under him, ass thrust out. His breath came in shallow pants. His heart pounded in his throat. Not on the table then, he thought, but like this--and then instead of standing behind him, Dr. Lecter knelt, his thumbs firm on Will's ass-cheeks to push them apart.

"Ever had a good tongue-fucking, Will? No?" The doctor tsked. "Long overdue. But perhaps it's for the best."

Warm breath on Will's hole, and then the wet flick of a tongue. Will made a garbled noise. Of all the things Jack never did--and then he couldn't spare another thought for Jack, or anyone or anything else. Dr. Lecter licked up and down the cleft between his cheeks, lapping up the glaze of slick. An appreciative murmur escaped him. He nosed in, pressing his tongue to Will's hole and licking, licking, tracing the edge of the swollen pucker before thrusting in. 

Will's mouth hung open on broken groans. He rutted into the bedclothes and shoved his hips backward by turns. His ass throbbed under that hot mouth, his cock against the rough fabric of the coverlet. He reached under himself to fist it, fumbling with need, and shuddered at Dr. Lecter's approving hum. 

"I like your thinking. Go on. Touch yourself while I take care of this." A soft kiss to his hole. "You taste delicious. I thought you would. How anyone could neglect you--" He shook his head, nipped the flesh of Will's ass and resumed his work. 

For a sweet, blurred stretch of time it was good, only good, and then the goodness slipped. Will pawed his cock into futile agony. The hot mouth that stoked but didn't fill him became too much to bear. With a choked noise Will jerked out of reach and scrabbled forward, crawling on all fours. 

Sweat dripped from his chin, into his eyelashes. He blinked hard back at where Dr. Lecter crouched, staring at Will, lips parted and gleaming with smeared slick. Will's limbs shook.

"Please, I can't, Hannibal, please--"

His arms buckled under just as the alpha surged onto the bed.

*

By the time Will roused from his stupor, the world outside the curtains had gone dark. The table had been cleared. He lay flopped across a pillow like a beached fish, his face tilted toward the only light.

Hannibal was sitting up, reading from a tablet by the bedside lamp. He hadn't yet noticed Will was awake. Will studied the shape of him, the cultivated musculature of his naked shoulders, the planes of his chest with their fuzz of greying hair. The clear, warm brown of his eyes, ruddy in the lamplight. 

Probably it was the heat goggles that were starting to make him look like such a catch. Will would find out in a few days, regardless.

Seeing him awake, Hannibal set down the tablet and smiled. " _Bonsoir._ How are you feeling?"

"Present," said Will. "And accounted for." In fact he felt good. Stupidly good. Sated for the moment, and something less familiar--some feeling along the lines of appreciated, maybe. He tried not to examine that one too closely. A mark on his shoulder burned and ached where Hannibal had set teeth to him, and that felt good, too. 

"Your phone suggests you have a message. I suspect it's from Jack. Regarding the case."

Will made a disgruntled noise and stared at the headboard. Work seemed like a distant unreality, full of nightmares in waiting. "I thought we weren't discussing Jack."

"We might discuss when and how best to tell him you've found a more suitable partner."

"Oh, I have, have I?"

Hannibal beamed down at him. "Don't you think?"

Will snorted, but had no dissent to muster. His chin sank more deeply into the pillow on which he'd sprawled. "How many alphas does it take to change a light bulb?" he asked.

"No need to change it, if there's an alpha in the room. The sun will be shining out of his behind."

"You've heard that one. I'll have to get some new material."

"Since that implies an intention to spend more time in my company, I won't object," said Hannibal. "But I like your material as it is. Every fiber." 

He laid a hand on Will's head and rested it there, nestled in the curls. 

If he was only pretending to enjoy touching Will, being with Will, he was a damned good actor. Will supposed he had no reason to act. Even allowing for the sway of pheromones, Will knew what an alpha doing chores in bed looked like. Hannibal wasn't that.

He closed his eyes. He thought about telling Jack. Aside from the awfulness of having to face him, it wouldn't be that bad. Jack would posture and growl, put on the expected show of pride, but underneath he'd be relieved. Relieved of a burden, glad to have Will off his plate. If Hannibal was serious--if only about seeing Will through heats--Will wanted to be on his.

The thought made him feel like a grub under a stone when the stone was lifted, bewildered at exposure and sudden light. It made his chest hurt, as if the most tender muscle in it were sore from disuse. 

He turned on his side and scooted closer to Hannibal, nudging his nose against Hannibal's hip. He'd look at his phone in a little while, or maybe in the morning. Hannibal waited for him to settle, then lowered his hand back to its place on the crown of Will's head. 

*

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [unicornmagic.tumblr.com](unicornmagic.tumblr.com)


End file.
